


Lifeboat

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adopted brothers Keith and Shiro, Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pining, Post-Break Up, Slow Burn, figure skating AU, sports AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-10-29 02:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10844496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After choking at Worlds, Lances makes the decision to move to an old friend's rink for the next season. Hoping to escape what follows him every single time he runs away.





	1. Ordinary Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Ho hum because we didn't need another figure skating AU did we. I want to say I've been wanting to do something with this for ages but just never found the inspiration until recently. Which I'll say it's going to be different to On Thin Ice, which is a fucking fantastic fic by the way. Hopefully this is something I update regularly because I am about to be on break for a few months from uni.

They spoke as though he couldn’t hear them, in semi hushed voices as he stared at his phone scrolling through his feed, trying his best to not give any sign that he was listening in on the conversation. “He’s a rink hopper, everyone knows it.” That came from the shortest member of the trio sitting a few benches below him, Lance just imagining the scowl that the mullet wearing asshole must be wearing.

At least there was a voice of reason amongst the three, the woman and part owner of the rink defending him. “There’s a reason behind that, Keith, if you competed or even followed the competitive circuit you’d have some idea of what’s going on.” He hadn’t openly informed Allura of his reasoning for moving rinks but she’d welcomed him with open arms, knowing his record of achievement earnt him a place there.

“Rivalries shouldn’t be what makes you leave rinks and coaches constantly though, if he’s that threatened by this guy wouldn’t it be safer to be at the same rink so that he could constantly be watching his back?” The one that thus far had been the second voice of reason seemed to have turned on him, leaving Lance looking down at his skates in frustration, wanting nothing more than to get on the ice rather than having to wait another five minutes for the kid’s session to finish.

Realistically he should have been warming up, he’d been in the process of doing so before they’d started talking about him, in trying not to act like he was listening, he’d lost all focus on warming up before training. It was only meant to be a light run through, he’d use the most of the forty-five minutes he had on the ice, but there wasn’t time to be running his program more than once over, especially when he was still working his jumps into the program. Perhaps a couple of extra warm up laps would do him good this afternoon.

After all, the morning practice had felt good, it wasn’t clean by any means but given that his previous season had ended in crushing defeat, just messing around with some choreography for an exhibition program was healthier than sitting at home doing nothing.

As the two instructors on the ice called the skaters in to wrap up training, Lance found himself standing, gathering his things that sat beside him, checking that his water was full, not wanting to have to step off the ice for anything in the next forty-five minutes. If everything was at least down by the ice and he needed something, he’d simply be able to flash a smile and ask for them to grab it out of his bag. It wasn’t until he found a bench closer to the rink that he started listening again, trying his best to swallow his pride and ignore them. “All I’m saying is there’s a reputation that we have here and a sudden departure can damage it.” That one came from Keith again, Lance’s eyes flicking up to look at the trio, none of them seeming to notice him.

“Well so long as scum stays away, you don’t have to worry about me hopping over to another rink.” He hissed, reaching back to remove his guards, stuffing each one into his bag as he finally made eye contact with the gossips. “Reputation or not, having someone that has won international competitions is good for a rink, it says that the facilities are top notch and the coaches can be trusted to train young skaters to be top level.” There was no point mentioning the embarrassment of Worlds, he’d won or placed at several competitions earlier in the year, having choked once wasn’t going to set up his career for disaster.

It was better that happened at the end of a season rather than the beginning.

The moment he stepped onto the rink, gripping the edge for a moment, Lance found himself able to breathe, making small and smooth strokes into the ice, skating several laps facing forwards to then working backwards, finding everything waking up just as it should be. Having taken a month’s holiday after worlds had been cathartic, while it mostly was trying to find a new rink, he genuinely believed he got the rest he needed and now that it was June, instead of having to brave the heat he could find peace in one of the few places that remained nice and cool no matter the weather. He’d only been at this rink for a few weeks and while rumours followed him, at least Allura’s faith in him eased his nerves about it all.

So many concessions were made for him, showing up with the constant moves, the end of the season he had and no coach left Lance more than prepared to be turned away again. They’d been friends when they both competed juniors, the boy always having looked up to Allura as she skated her way into success. However, they began to distance themselves. Coaching changes were made and they rarely competed at the same competitions anymore. Yet when he came begging she welcomed him with open arms, not asking for explanations and allowing him to train without a coach for the time being, that he could use her if needs be when competition season came back around.

Glancing at the large clock on the wall Lance frowned, just how slow had he been skating? Already a third of his time had passed, pursing his lips, Lance skated towards the centre of the rink, shaking out his hands as he started to think through the program he’d been working with. There was no use doing it full out but certainly some parts couldn’t just be glided through without second thought. “Do you want your music?” He heard from the entrance to the rink, Lance glancing up to see Allura holding up the CD he’d brought along with him.

“No… It’s okay, once through then we’ll go with the music.” He called out, readjusting his position again, only moving when he’d counted to himself twice over.

***

Of the eight jumps he attempted, he landed two, a double toe which he only attempted to see how he was actually feeling about doing jumps today and a triple axel. Neither of those landings were clean, either barely hanging on or having some other fault in it. The other six were falls, most being not much more than a knee. Two were body falls though, Lance kneeling on the ice for a moment, holding in the frustrated scream that wanted to escape.

He’d had good practices and bad practices but nothing as aggravating as struggling to land triples he’d had since he was twelve.

Now he sat in Allura’s office, having been told to get off the ice by the rink owner before he hurt himself any more than he possibly already had. He wasn’t injured, he couldn’t be, he’d taken that time off, rested and on the most part he felt fine. There was some pain but there had always been some pain. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just a bad afternoon.” He sighed before Allura could get a word in, earning a pen thrown at his head.

“This morning you said it felt good. It didn’t look good so just how much pain are you in?” She said, standing up from her seat, making the point to go and close the door so that anyone eavesdropping would have at least a greater degree of difficulty.

“It’s just DOMS, it’s not any real pain and because of it sometimes I’m stiff.”

“You spent half an hour this morning jogging and stretching, then you wasted fifteen minutes this afternoon doing warm up laps. That’s not someone that’s just sore from coming back after a few weeks.” Lance knew she was just looking for buttons to press, it wasn’t the first time since he’d started using this rink she’d grilled him about one thing or another. “As your friend, I’ll drag you to a doctor myself and make you get scans done.”

Pulling his jacket sleeve down to cover his hand, Lance frowned, wishing it wasn’t just the two of them in the room, if someone else was there he could disengage, act like he didn’t care and get distracted. Keep up the flighty persona so many people thought was real. “It’s not a physical problem, why can’t everyone see that?” He whined, pushing himself out of the seat. “If I go and get whatever scans you think I need and get given an all clear is everyone going to give me a break?”

“No one’s ever going to give you a break, but I’ll help you, we’ll work through what happened at Worlds if injury isn’t the actual reason for this meltdown you’re having.”

***

“Oh wow, I thought that was a disaster but this is so much worse.” Keith uttered, staring at the video, trying not to let his jaw hang open.

“The second half is better, but he gets four deductions for those three falls.” Pidge says leaning forward as she pulls off her skates, removing the plastic guards to dry the blades. “The guy that won, rumour has it they dated and Lance got dumped on the practice day they had between the short and free programs.”

Keith frowned, placing the phone in his lap as he looked at the petite skater. “So, he bombs because of a break up, that sounds a little dramatic.”

“Sounds a lot like Lance.”

He didn’t know the guy, in fact the interaction earlier was the first time he’d gotten more than a comment about his hair from the other. Pidge and Hunk both knew him from competition, and both claimed to respect him as a skater but Pidge especially also claimed he was a ridiculous individual. “So, what’s the real reason for Allura wanting him here, other than him being higher ranked than anyone else here?”

Pidge halted in her movements, glancing over at Keith. “I don’t know, but while he’s here I’m going to use him. They get under each other’s skin and eventually Lance will run away like he always does.”

“Use him how? You skate in the women’s division. He’s more use to me and I’m just doing this for fun.”

“Lance choreographs his routines, so if he’s too much of a hot mess to work on his own stuff, maybe he’ll help me.” They both jumped at the sound of a door being opened and then closed shortly after, the pair looking over their shoulder to see both Lance and Allura emerge from the office. Neither one looking satisfied.

They only paused as they got closer to the pair, Keith looking away whilst Pidge continued to face them. “Katie-”

“Pidge.” She corrected before Lance got the opportunity to say anything more.

“ _Pidge_ , I think I have some music I can work with for you, but it will be the length of a free program.” He did genuinely look guilty for getting the other’s name wrong, placing his fidgeting hands in his pockets almost immediately after.

Initially all he got was a hum in response. Pidge pushing her glasses up her nose, sadistically making the other wait additional time before giving him anything of worth. “If it doesn’t look like a program that will score well once we’re done with it, then I’ll skate it at a gala.” She said, earning a frown from Lance, Keith now unable to decide who to pay attention to at this point. Pidge was baiting the other, even if she was getting what she wanted, whilst Lance was falling for it all too easily.

Then it flipped, Lance taking control of the conversation, Keith could practically see the lightbulb above his head. “I can just not do it then. Saves the aggravation.” He snapped, nudging Allura with his elbow. “Imagine if we ever told your father that maybe we’d do a program he’d worked on, would have been thrown out of the rink for a week for that.”

“Nice try he never coached you.” Pidge retorted, more bothered by Lance’s sudden flip than what should have been necessary.

“No, but he did choreograph a program for Lance on two occasions and he would have if Lance hadn’t been committed to a coach at the time.” Allura said, flashing the smile that she only ever gave any of them when they were pushing her too far. “Let’s go before you start fighting with my skaters Lance.”

For a moment, Keith sat there in stunned silence, having not witnessed Pidge lose a battle of words so quickly before. He’d seen her dismissed or shouted down plenty of times, but normally it required more effort than that. “So, he’s not going to do it?” He asked, turning back to the other, who had gone back to packing her bag.

“That’s just foreplay, he’s going to do it.” Before he got the chance to ask how she was so sure she put a hand up, silencing him. “He’ll make money from it and so long as someone sees it with his name attached to it builds his reputation. Look at some of his stuff from earlier in the season, he’s good and if you want to compete at any point even though it would only be regional events, it’ll be useful for you, he’s got more competition experience than Allura.”


	2. Black Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah should note each chapter is named after a song, so the first was Ordinary Pain by Stevie Wonder which if you listen to the song it doesn't work with that being a stand alone but oops. This chapter though it's Black Water by Of Monsters and Men on the other hand, should make a lot more sense.

Four hours, it took four hours to go from A to B to C, each time waiting more time than had they just called and made appointments for the next day. All because Allura thought he’d just skip out on them if he had the chance to.

They’d made a deal, one that would benefit him either way, what was the point in backing out. Everyone was going to say he was fine, maybe that there was some muscle or tendon stress but nothing too serious. He’d get given exercises and then they’d send him on his way, maybe get a quick massage from the physio beforehand if he was lucky.

However, the physiotherapist was part D, a part that was now getting delayed as they sat in a waiting room, having been referred for an MRI to see the damage on both his feet and knees, the doctor having not liked the range of movement he had. Despite Lance’s protests about having done two forty-five-minute training sessions today. “Look on the bright side kid, it’s the perfect weather to get to take a break from training.” The doctor had said, which earnt Allura a scowl.

“Why do you go to that doctor, he has terrible bedside manner?” Lance complained, flipping through one of the magazines that sat in the waiting room, dating back to about two years ago, the edges either ripped or stuck together from its overuse. “You’d think he was related to mullet.”

“Not biologically at least.” Allura mumbled, not looking up from her own magazine. “He’s his adoptive father if that counts for anything… Shiro’s too.”

That was a surprise, Lance had assumed Keith and Shiro were merely close friends, not brothers. They were so different to think they were both brought up in the same household wasn’t what Lance had expected today. “So… you took me to your boyfriend’s dad, sounds like a conflict of interests.”  The reaction wasn’t what Lance desired, Allura merely turning the page, he would have expected an elbow to the ribs or being snapped at that she and Shiro weren’t dating. “If you don’t say anything I’m going to tell Coran.”

“Tell him what? It’s not like you’d be the first person to tell him that Shiro and I are a couple.” She sighed, placing her magazine down, glancing as a nurse came into the waiting room, calling in a patient other than them. “We were here before them, are they expecting us to stay until morning?”

That didn’t exactly confirm or deny anything. Lance had heard talk before he’d moved to the rink that she was dating someone that worked for her, once sending a joking text message that if she was dating her employees she could end up getting sued for harassment. Never had he seen so many curse words in one text message before. “We’re young, they probably don’t think we’ll complain. Well not in the aggressive way that old people tend to.”

“You calling Coran old?”

“Your words not mine. Also, he doesn’t complain like that, more just tells me how back when he was a skater they didn’t focus on jumps as much and that the scores weren’t as ridiculously high.” Lance sighed, unable to hide the smile that appeared at the thought of one of the many rants he’d listened to about the inflation of scores. “It’s not my fault he was allowed to attempt as many quad toes in a free program as he could and I can do two good ones plus two others as well.”

“People that ate ice as hard as you did today don’t get to talk about how good their jumps are.” Allura said, placing the magazine she held on the end table, turning to look at Lance now. “You hide pain better than most Lance, but you were told it’s likely something serious this time and you look like you’re just blocking the notion of it out.”

“If my ACL was torn I wouldn’t be walking without a brace.” He groaned, standing and stopping his right leg on the ground twice, managing to not wince like he had each time the knee had been touched in the doctor’s office.

“What are you trying to prove, that you risked your entire career because you got dumped?” She hissed, pulling Lance back into his seat, now wearing a genuine scowl. “No one goes from third to fifteenth in a matter of days, not in a sport that has as much bias as it does. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve been dumped near a competition either.”

“It’s different.”

“Well you refuse to talk about it but blame all your problems on this one thing. You said he wasn’t the love of your life.” He did say that, in a phone call when Lance was panicking about getting out of Barcelona but also having nowhere to go. She’d offered then to let him come and train at the rink. Like an idiot, he’d been too proud to accept the help and wasted a month trying to find somewhere new.

Taking a deep breath, Lance placed a light hand on the knee that now ached. “I got scared okay, anyone that cared to watch the practices before the Free Skate talks about how he hunted me down, jumped right after I did too close for comfort, entered spins in areas where I had a step sequence-”

“You’re not seriously claiming that you had a meltdown and are still rattled because of someone interfering with you? That’s a compliment if someone is threatened enough that they need to get in your head to beat you.”

The nurse making their return was a relief. Lance stood, placing his own magazine back on the table before following the nurse, Allura right on his heels. There was so much she didn’t understand. Arguing was futile when she refused to hear out his perspective on it all without interrupting.

***

It took a day to get results, although the physio had openly said in the morning that it was incredibly unlikely that the scans would turn up with anything less than a Grade 1 ACL sprain. The truth sinking in by the time they made it to the car. Lance not uttering a word the entire drive home. Barely getting out a thank you before making his way inside.

He wasn’t mad, not at Allura at least. She was doing what she was supposed to do, especially being the owner of the place he trained, if he’d torn it entirely in practice she would be liable. It hurt, being told he wouldn’t be able to train at the one thing he was good at for another month if not more, letting everyone down, being too stubborn to realise what was the real problem.

Keeping his eyes down as he entered the shared apartment, Lance placed the keys on the kitchen bench. Having to grip the surface to stop himself from going into his room. He wanted to break something and the victim was likely going to be something he regretted later.

It was the weight in his pocket that kept him out in the main living space, slowly taking his phone out. He had to talk to someone, it was the middle of the day so his parents would both be working, siblings at their part time jobs or at camp. He had no friends in the city that weren’t either at training or working at the rink. Even Lance spent most of his time there out of convenience. It was close to enough of the resources he needed and at times he helped out during public skating. Even Hunk was meant to be there now and he didn’t spend half the time at the rink compared to anyone else.

Not giving himself the chance to second guess his decision he entered one of the few numbers he knew by heart, holding his phone to his ear. So, what if everything had gone wrong? They’d get it. “Lance?”

Taking a deep breath, the skater struggled to find the words to say, getting a sigh from down the other end of the phone. “Is your father around?”

“Be specific.”

“Is he with you?”

There was a pause, Lance hearing the sound of a door opening and closing before he got any response. “He’s here, is that all you wanted?”

“No! I just don’t want to have him hear anything that’s going on in my life.” The words came out like venom, the idea of such hatred coming from his mouth shocking even Lance. Sure, he said cruel things at times but not like that. “I wanted you to know it wasn’t your fault, I lost my shit but it’s not because of anything you did.”

Now there was silence from the other, Lance holding his breath as he waited for a response. “Babe-”

“Don’t-”

“Fuck, fine! I don’t feel guilty Lance, you fucked up everything because you couldn’t keep it together. Whether you blamed me or my father for anything is irrelevant.” He didn’t need a hit like that when he was already down, the breath that finally escaped him being shaky. “Don’t cry, I swear to God.”

“Swear what? That you’ll cheat on me again? It’s too late for that Lotor, everyone says I have a big ego but yours is so much worse.” There it was, the one thing he’d kept buried for months. Letting people believe whatever rumour they wanted. “I’ve probably sprained my ACL, that’s why I called. So, you’d know that the way things turned out has nothing to do with you.”

That was enough, the other end going dead in a matter of seconds. No one liked to hear of other skaters getting injured and Lotor wouldn’t be able to fight him over this. Even if he claimed no responsibility Lance wouldn’t have been surprised if he still liked to think he did have some.

The satisfaction of getting that out wasn’t enough to make him accept it though. A numb feeling starting to worm its way in, sitting in his core. A feeling that hadn’t reared its’ ugly head in years. He’d always let himself be transparent emotionally and yet now when no one could see he wasn’t able to let anything out.

***

The look on Allura’s face when she returned told them it wasn’t good news, no one daring to ask what the problem was. It wasn’t actually their business and whilst Lance had made some friends in the past few weeks, aside from Hunk with whom he lived, no one was close enough to really be effected by it. “Might not need that music after all.” Pidge had muttered, standing in a group of the few staff members that were working the Tuesday afternoon.

“You complained about it being musical theatre from the moment you got it.” Her brother uttered, leaning against the smallest member of their group, lazily staring at his phone as though he wasn’t entirely committed to the conversation.

“It’s better than the classical stuff sure, but Lance has done all these cool routines and he’s like here do something from a popular musical.”

That earnt a few snickers from the group. “Oh man, did he say it was going to be for a gala?” Hunk asked, the tallest member of the group having been sorting through the tiny first aid pouch he had to carry with him once they hit the ice.

“Free program.”

“Right, more chance of people seeing it.”

The group continued to chat about the prospects of the routine ever getting completed, before being ushered towards the ice by Coran, telling them to set up cones to do a brief lesson for beginners at one end of the rink and to pick who would be giving said lesson. The duties falling to Hunk and Matt, everyone agreeing that they were the two that were both better with kids but also far less likely to swear in front of anyone that was even remotely impressionable.

In the meantime, Shiro, Keith and Pidge slowly made their way around the rink, stopping to check they’d closed all parts of the barrier earlier. “Why are there five people on the ice today? There’s no way we’re going to have enough people for it to be necessary.” Keith said, glancing at the time, they weren’t going to have the maximum amount of people for an hour at least, which meant they could at least stagger how many people were working.

“We have two large group bookings, both being fifteen or more children under ten.” Shiro reasoned, a few regulars starting to make their way onto the ice.

“And it’s only Tuesday, gross.” Pidge groaned, pulling a few bobby pins out of her kit, pinning her hair back. “I swear if I nearly hit one kid from them skating in the wrong direction, I’ll kick them off the ice.”

“Doubt it.” The brothers responded almost instantly, one of the expected large groups passing by the rink to rentals, earning a look of horror from Pidge.

It was bound to be a long afternoon and evening at this rate.


	3. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah shameless plug follow me on tumblr @baekawaa for fucking nonsense and also some lit stuff. I'll admit though I do reblog most voltron ships so if you're an anti of any kind it's not gonna be a good time.

“For the number of small children that screamed in my face yesterday, it was a fairly uneventful evening.” Pidge said, leaning against the barrier with her leg up, not fully committing to the stretch in case she slipped onto the ice.

“So, you finally got a taste of your own medicine?” Lance chuckled, leaning against the opposite side, having decided to take the temporary advice of staying off the ice. He hadn’t been told how long it would be, simply given a rough and incredibly frustrating estimate of six weeks.

There was no way he’d be prepared when the season commenced. The warning of a potential year off if he managed to tear it, well that was enough for Lance to go home with his tail between his legs. Relieved that it wasn’t as serious as Allura seemed to think it was. Now he just had to be smart, stay focused in other ways.

A 6am start wasn’t great but it was normal, Lance wanted to at least feel normal if he was going into a role of a choreographer rather than a skater for the summer. This time last year he was on tour, something that while being a lot of fun had also left him with a number of sleepless nights.

Maybe this would all work out to be a good thing.

“I’m not dignifying that…” In reality she didn’t want to risk the chance that Lance took back the offer entirely, on the list of things she could have said this had been pretty low on it. “The music is what fifteen seconds short of the time limit, are you planning on adding more music into it somewhere?”

“I’m working on it. Well I’m getting someone else to work on it.” He said, wrapping his headphones around his fingers and unwinding them several times over. “There’s not a lot of room to breathe within the piece so we’re gonna work it in somewhere just so you don’t run out of stamina by the final jumps and spin.”

“So, you’re stacking the second half of the program?” She asked, slowly sliding her foot off of the barrier and replacing it with the other. “I’m not complaining, but I can’t do all three combos in the second half with a triple as well.”

Honesty, something Lance wouldn’t have ever been so straight forward about, he simply would have always tweaked technical elements later on so that he could complete the program. “Well I’d leave room for emergency combos.” He said. “Besides, I’m not in charge of your jumps, I’ll give you spaces to add them in.”

Lance wished he had full control, but Pidge had her own coach and they’d determine how she’d use the technical elements. It just wasn’t going to happen. “You know the song isn’t me at all, though right? It’s going to look strange for the first few times.” That wasn’t exactly correct, Pidge’s persona as a skater was different to her off ice attitude. The one that was always quick to fire back at others was softer when she skated, Lance admired that she could tell a story but also found her skating at times reflected a less mature being.

“Think of it this way, your two programs together tell a story.” He said, trying to put a spin on it that wouldn’t sound entirely farfetched. “Your short is someone that’s naïve, flighty, chasing someone she can’t have. The free is the woman scorned. They’re both types of heartache.”

“That’s what you get from the short? I think you may be projecting.”

He couldn’t help but look slightly taken aback. Had he interpreted that entire routine and music incorrectly. He’d watched Pidge work through it over and over, and the way he saw it each and every time was that it was someone chasing love. “Wait, then what is it?” Lance asked, trying not to look as confused as he felt.

“Ah basically it’s meant to be my debut into senior competition.”

“You competed as a senior all last season that doesn’t make any sense.”

Not only had she skated as a senior, but she’d made the national team so it was odd to suggest that this was going to be a debut season. “Don’t you think I still skated like a junior though? Allura’s first season as a senior looked way more advanced than mine.”

Now that made more sense, a few of the younger skaters stepping off the rink, looking at the two of them curiously. “I mean a little bit you still do, but it’s because the routines are immature, anyone can see you can do more.”

“And that’s why you’re going to help.” There was a light push to his stomach as she set her leg down on the ice. “I’m not quite sure how this is going to work with you being off the ice for the next couple of weeks though.”

“Just get the feel for the music today, we’ll work in a studio where there’s at least less risk of injury.”

There was a nod, confirming that she understood. “Well I’m going to do that, because otherwise Coran will have me practicing spins until I throw up.” Reaching out for the phone and headphones that Lance held, having assured him over and over that she’d not get tangled up in the headphones.

It was surprisingly easy to watch the Pidge skate, Lance finding comfort in the fact that she certainly was interpreting this piece in the same way that he was. With the lyrics, it was fairly straight forward but there were subtle nuisances that if they weren’t captured could end up costly.

Even when all he wanted to see was her mess around with the music and ‘get the feel of it’ he could see what part of the song she was up to based on the movements she made. It all fit together so beautifully. Pidge needing a routine that showed she was a solid senior skater, Lance needing some sort of an outlet where he could at least show some emotional pain rather than the mask that everything was fine. Something he hadn’t exactly been keeping up all too well if Pidge thought he was projecting.

Maybe he was, but it felt good, felt necessary. Most of his decisions of late just felt idiotic.

Slowly his eyes started to wander, watching the younger female skaters working through spirals, Coran leading them and yelling phrases that made sense to no one, many of them looking bored out of their minds, one or two wearing a pained expression having not stretched enough beforehand and now pushing it that little too far. Shiro and Allura skating circles around everyone whilst not even actually practicing. To watch the one-person Lance had thought would remain a singles skater even when it came to a professional career, make movements to doing pairs fascinated Lance. Simply because in all the years he’d known Allura she’d been a leader and in pairs it was certainly hard for the female to be considered the lead. Yet now all he wanted to see was the two skate together, even if it was just them fooling around.

Then there was Keith, the one person that on an ordinary day Lance would have just ignored, but Lance couldn’t help but be distracted by the other today. For once it wasn’t the mullet, it was still to do with the appearance of the other, but more what he was wearing. Lance left feeling unsure as to whether he should laugh about it or scowl. Wearing mismatched gloves was normal, it happened to everyone, but the fact that one was black and fingerless whilst from across the rink it looked like a grey mitten. They were too far away from each other for Lance to really make a call on the matter when Keith’s hands were in a fist.

Why couldn’t he have just gone without gloves. From what he’d seen, Keith didn’t use his hands to catch his falls all that much and he very rarely put a hand down on a botched landing of a jump, he’d simply attempt to catch himself.

He didn’t call out to the other until he witnessed what was probably one of the more obviously cheated flips he’d seen in a long time. “Kogane, it’s a toe-pick assisted jump, you don’t jump off your edge.” He called out when Keith was close enough to hear him without Lance having to shout.

The skater stopped for a moment before moving towards him, Lance identifying that it was in fact a mitten that the other was wearing. Too determined to correct the other than laugh in his face. “I hit it with my pick.” He said, leaning against the barrier, looking more than thankful to have a break.

“Shut up you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lance said, putting a hand up. It hadn’t just been the take off. “You also pre-rotated a double to the point that you were at axel entry. Just do a single if you don’t have it, otherwise you’re going to get injured.”

“Oh, like you are?”

Lance scowled, wanting to leap over the barrier and prove his point to the other. “Keith, I know what I’m talking about, maybe say thank you and try to fix it.” He snapped, gripping the hand that wore the mitten and pulling it off, throwing it in his face. “You look ridiculous, just don’t wear gloves, or borrow a pair, enough people bring two sets.”

“You don’t have to take out the fact that you can’t skate on me.” Lance knew Keith was trying to hurt him, throw a couple of barbs in to prove that someone that was just skating recreationally was able to do more than he was at the moment.

It had worked though, Lance holding back from saying anything. Not out of fear that his voice would crack or he’d cry but because he was genuinely worried that if he did fire back at the other he’d be the one that was reprimanded. “It doesn’t matter then.” He sighed, taking a step back. Motioning to Pidge that he was leaving. After all she was the only one he was required to help and if Keith was going to be resistant he wasn’t going to play the games that he and Pidge played with each other.

***

There was something cathartic about working through the choreography for the program, Lance having found his way to one of the empty viewing rooms. Well it hadn’t been empty, merely devoid of people and he’d had to move a few chairs into the hallway. A problem for later.

So many pent-up feelings, he’d buried enough things for long enough that being able to focus on it in an abstract way, felt relaxing. He was merely walking through things, making soft jumps and making sure to only turn on his left leg. The worst part about this was having to dance on carpet and in socks, the socks at times slipping down his heal.

He could see onto the ice from up here, think about the placement on the rink that Pidge would be at certain moments, at least attempt to logically block the piece even though he couldn’t entirely account for how fast she’d move from one end to another.

 _They don’t get to know what I said_.

Wasn’t that ironic? The entire piece was the message and anyone that knew the rumours knew where it came from and who it was to. No one knew the whole story.

No one could know the full story.

It was a certain level of petty that Lance was even bothering to call it out through another skater. However, it just happened to work with the birth of a new skater that Pidge seemed to want to have as well. He could throw more mature elements into it whilst making sure she could embody the character.

“You okay?” The voice distracted Lance, turning the portable speaker off before he even looked towards the door. Finding some relief in seeing Shiro standing there.

“Yeah, Keith just doesn’t get it.” He said through gritted teeth, not having realised how pissed off he actually was about that. “I get that he’s your brother but he’s just the worst.”

That might have been immature to say but it was honestly how Lance was feeling, he’d honestly been trying to help the other only to be dismissed. “He did say you yelled at him about a jump and then went off about his gloves. You guys can’t blow up at each other on the ice, there’s kids there.”

Had he not left to avoid being told off? “I told him what he was doing wrong with his flip and was going to explain how to fix it. Also, I threw the glove at him because he looked like an idiot, that was just good life advice.” He was doing his best to sound level headed, Keith was the hot head in the group. This was just infuriating though. “And no one swore, so your facts are wrong there.”

There was a stiff silence between them. There was no hierarchy between the two of them, Shiro had been at the rink longer and was presumably dating the other, whilst Lance had the experience that he wasn’t exactly wrong in what he did. “I honestly came here to see how you were feeling physically, I’m gonna drop all talk about Keith.”

Oh, now Lance felt like he was in the wrong, unable to meet the taller man’s eye. “It feels weird not skating, but it’s the second day so it should feel weird no?” He said softly, feeling the confident mask start to slip, unable to totally recover it. “It doesn’t hurt but now that I know where and what’s wrong it doesn’t feel right. Mind over matter doesn’t work when you know the problem apparently.”

“I’d say so, this was more for Allura than anything but my dad said next time you guys have to actually book rather than showing up five minutes after calling.” There was no doubt in his mind that it was entirely directed at Allura, Lance having suggested they call, mostly having wanted to delay going at the time, but she’d certainly been determined.

“Makes sense… actually why did I only find out you and Keith were brothers the other day. I’ve known about you since you came on the scene and Allura always acted like you’re an only child.”

“Well you and Keith aren’t exactly best friends, also we’re only brothers through adoption, separate birth parents.” He already knew that, but telling by the look on Shiro’s face, Lance knew the other wanted to ask about what him being on the scene actually meant.

“Don’t worry Allura’s always adored you.” He chuckled, placing the iPod and portable speaker into his bag. There was no way he was going to get to keep working in here now. “Never quite confirmed or denied the relationship status so you could weigh in on that one? She’s clearly met the parents.”

 That seemed to be enough to relax Shiro, the other bringing one of the stacks of chairs that were just out in the hall. “I can but I can’t.” That wasn’t what he wanted at all, Lance giving the other the middle finger as he was laughed at. “Pidge’s music, it’s directed at an ex?”

It was such an open question given that he’d gotten such a vague response. “Yeah, going with the whole you break my heart, but I can’t let it show.” He said, finding the mask had at least allowed him to maintain a smile. “He and I both know what happened, maybe it’s time other people did as well. At least I’m not the one saying it directly this time.”

“So, you’re turning an already public break up into an even more public one?”

“Hah I wish.” He smirked, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to stop himself from fidgeting. “No one knows what actually happened.”

“Well what happened?” The kind expression from Shiro made Lance want to explain everything right then and there. He doubted Shiro actually wanted to listen to his problems though.

“Let’s go with, we didn’t break up until after I choked at worlds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Burn from Hamilton. Also the real plot of this fic is Lance finding out if Shiro and Allura are actually together.


	4. Tainted Love

_Breathe..._

_Just breathe it’s not the end of the world..._

_He’s only trying to send a message…_

_It doesn’t have anything to do with you._

He set the phone down, pushing it out of arms reach. There was nothing he wanted to see on that now. No one he could speak to about it. Sure, there were people that would understand, but they also likely wouldn’t believe him. It was the word of one against the word of two, maybe even three.

It wasn’t something he could ignore though. No. This had been pushed to the side for so long. Any time he’d ever questioned it he’d gotten the same excuse; that it was an act for family, that she knew the deal.

_You’re a fucking cliché._

_Are you going to keep falling for this?_

It started with pacing in his hotel room, continuously zipping and unzipping his jacket, only wincing the first time it bit at his neck. He wanted to be able to picture what he was going to say, what he was going to do. How could he though? Lotor knew so many of his insecurities, he’d used them before and if Lance pressed hard enough he’d do it again. He was smarter, but no less of a coward.

They both created masks, Lance’s might have only been an emotional one, the seemingly overly confident ball of sunshine that hid any and all pain. Lotor’s was more complicated than that. It had to be to survive. They both had their reputations to protect… Lance’s simply wasn’t as important. When would it ever be given the circumstances.

_It has everything to do with you._

_Stop being a naïve idiot._

“Great pep talk, Lance.” He uttered to himself, only grabbing his room key before making his way out of the room. Running the edge of his thumb’s nail, across his fingertips. Anything to keep his mind from thinking in absolutes. It was dangerous at any time and now it felt even more so to get into such territory. It was either two flights of stairs or having to stand in a stuffy elevator, an elevator that would likely contain someone that knew him and wanted to strike up a conversation about the competition so far.

He wanted to think about anything other than this stupid competition right now. People would congratulate him for his scores and he’d have to make sure he smiled and acted grateful for something he didn’t have to think about until he was at the end of the competition.

So, it was the stairs that he took, moving two at a time, ignoring the stiff feeling in his legs. He should have stretched better in the warm up and even more so when he was cooling down at the two practice times he’d had today. The second one being far worse that the first.

He’d felt like he was being watched during the first practice but everything had gone smoothly. The second on the other being a disaster, every time he blinked Lotor was there… too close for comfort and disrupting his focus. It wasn’t until he’d gotten to his set music that he’d had any sort of freedom and even then, there were more times than there should have been that he was there. Lurking, seeming to wait for a time to strike.

_It’s all a strategy to get into your head._

_You got too close for comfort._

If he’d pounded on the door instead of that timid knock, perhaps he wouldn’t have felt like an idiot standing in the hallway for over a minute, able to hear two voices from within the room. He wanted to run right then and there, not wanting to confront the truth and yet the stiff feeling in his legs were exactly what was stopping him from being able to.

When it was opened, all he got was half of Lotor’s body, the other making no secret that he was trying to hide who else was in the room. He was fully dressed so at least he hadn’t caught him fucking someone else. That would have been a new one to add to the list of shitty things he’d done and Lance had simply ignored. “I’m busy Lance, can we do this later?” It might have been phrased like a question but it wasn’t. There was no offer and if it hadn’t been for his foot being in the doorway the door likely would have been shut in his face.

“No. I don’t want to be thinking about this tomorrow and I deserve answers.” Lotor’s poised smile quickly disappeared, they both knew Lance likely would have backed down before then.

“Then why didn’t you ask after practice?”

“Because this isn’t about practice!” He’d shouted, Lance forcing himself to take a step back, eyes closed as he attempted to regain some sort of composure. There were other skaters and likely journalists on the floor. A rumour about them getting into a fight was the worst thing that could possibly happen.

The attempt was failing, the feeling of a weight against his chest only upsetting him even more. It wasn’t until he felt his back against the wall that he realised he hadn’t stopped stepping back, trying to create a greater distance between them. It wasn’t Lotor or what he could do that had worked Lance up. No, the other might have been manipulative but that was the worst of it. It was his own actions, regretting even the idea of wanting to know the truth before he’d been told it.

The arms that wrapped around him were supposed to be comforting, instead they were suffocating. A few feeble attempts to swat them away weren’t enough for it though. “It’s a stupid photo.” That was enough to make Lance stop resisting, simply loosely gripping the other’s shirt. “I’m not going to justify it… hold on we’ll go back to your room.”

That second statement made it clear who was hiding behind the door. Not some girl who was as much of a fool as he was, but Lotor’s father. He couldn’t be more thankful for the suggestion to talk somewhere else.

Without hesitation he released the other, rubbing his chest with a fist, as though that would get the heavy feeling off of it. Instead it just made the pain feel more real. “Come on, he won’t bother us.” His hood being pulled over his head and a gentle tap on the back was all it took to get Lance moving. He dragged his feet, finding himself sniffling as he made an attempt to prevent any tears.

At the very least hold them back until they were in a truly private place. No one to pass by and start jumping to conclusions. Finding them stopping in front of the elevators, Lance couldn’t help but let out an aggravated sigh. “Are you serious?” He mumbled, allowing himself to get pushed into the elevator.

Two floors weren’t so bad, there could only be one additional stop between them getting on and off. Not much conversation could be made in that much time. Still whoever was on made the need to make conversation. “You looked great in practice this morning Lance.” It came from one of the Pairs skaters, she and her partner had competed for France, not winning any medals but still placing well enough to finish the season with a personal best. He’d commented whilst watching, that they had peaked at the right time, but had been in too low a group to start off with to really make a dent in the rankings.

“Thanks.” He said softly, not wanting to add a dismissive comment about his second practice. “You guys really improved it was great to watch.”

The soft whistle from Lotor was meant to be mocking, there was no mistaking it. It was no different to someone clicking their tongue, it wasn’t until after they got out that there was any real commentary on it. “Such comradery, it’s not beneficial you know.”

“You sound like your father.” Lance mumbled, pulling the room key out of his pocket. “She’s not competing against me so being her friend is simply nice. I don’t work angles like you do.”

“Maybe that’s why you came third in the short program though.”

“You’re second, two points ahead of me. It doesn’t mean shit.”

Was this an attempt to deflect? Distract from the actual conversation that needed to be had. Lance couldn’t even tell if it was Lotor that was leading this conversation, Lance wanted to throw some barbs in about how little a difference there was between them.

Opening the door to his room Lance stepped in first, catching the door before it shut on the other. He probably should have just let that happen. “Why’d you, do it? There’s a reason, you always have one.” He said softly, finding himself sitting in the same chair he’d been in earlier, phone still lying on the table.

_He’ll lie._

_He always lies._

“Because she’s a beard, makes people happy that I’m engaging in an appropriate relationship.”

“It’s not 1960, you being gay isn’t a PR disaster.” Lance sighed, hoping that it was as least a half truth. It would make one person happy, he knew that much but it wasn’t an excuse. “Why not just say you’re single? Rather than taking and posting photos of you kissing girls?”

Lance had no interest in looking at the other, the false reactions that were likely showing on his face would only make it all the more painful. “Because I’m not and if I get caught calling you, babe, then I at least have a cover.”

“Don’t put this on me, I have every right to be mad and upset. I’m allowed to feel something other than being stupidly happy all the time.” He snapped, sparing a glance to see the other look shocked more so than anything. “If being with me is causing you to spin a web of lies then break up with me. Because I don’t want to feel like this every other day with you flaunting that you’re ‘dating’ _her_.”

“Lance… No one’s asking you to be that person.”

“No one wants to deal with either one, though do they?”

“I do.”

“When it benefits you, because you work angles and getting in my head is an angle.” He was so stupid, all this time the thought had only ever lurked, never manifesting into something that could potentially be true and yet now that it was staring him in the face it was more confronting than the picture.

“That’s not true. I’ve known you for longer than I’ve had any hope of a career.”

_Excuses._

“Why’d you interfere in practice then?”

“You said we weren’t talking about that.”

That was more than enough for Lance to turn to the other entirely now. How was it possible that he was skimming over details? It was all connected. Lance was smart enough to identify it so Lotor should have been too. “This isn’t a game to me, I’m not scared of you as a skater. But it feels like you’re trying multiple ways of getting into my head.”

There was a look of guilt for just a moment the composed expression returning pretty quickly. “At practice I did, but what we’re talking about is different. I love you, I assumed you knew what it was.”

Those three words felt like poison. Thrown in there to make Lance feel worse, to feel like he was overreacting. “Did you sleep with her? You wouldn’t say you love me unless you really fucked up.” Silence. So, he no longer had an answer for everything. No answer meant there was an answer. “Get out. We can pretend this didn’t happen once worlds is over.”

To Lance’s surprise he actually left, not bothering to defend himself or even say goodbye. It was a first. It only reaffirmed that he’d done it though. Sitting forward, Lance picked up his phone, returning to scrolling through his twitter feed as he had been earlier. Having to detach himself from the new revelations before he had a complete and utter breakdown. It was easier to become a shell for a few hours. Not thinking was easier. He couldn’t prevent feeling; the pain was certainly there but a distraction that’d at least stop what felt like the early stages of a panic attack earlier.

At least this way he wouldn’t feel the need to run just yet. He had to finish the season at the very least.

***

“Shiro told me the two of you talked.” Lance did his best to not let his jaw drop, staring blankly at Allura wondering if she was going to elaborate. “Sounds like you attempted to give Keith genuine advice and Pidge said she had her doubts but she thinks you’re going to actually capture part of the image she wants.”

That certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. He’d vented slightly to Shiro about what had really happened, while he’d promised not to tell anyone, Lance had certainly assumed Allura had been told. He should have waited until he saw Coran, the man may have been odd but he always kept things private. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting me to say.” He said softly, taking the lip off of his coffee, pouring a packet of sugar into it. They’d gone for a walk during lunch, stopping at a café before deciding to make their way back. The hot air being quite the contrast to inside the arena.

“I know you like working as a choreographer and you did manage to create great programs for some junior last year…” Oh he knew where this was going. It went this way for so many athletes that faced injuries. The suggestion of coaching, it would have been insulting if he didn’t know that Allura was likely making the suggestion so that Lance could also make some extra money.

“I’m not coaching Keith, or anyone that could compete as a senior. It’s a conflict of interest.”

“Lance.”

“It’s not like he wants to compete, he’s just screwing around.” She wasn’t going to be able to fight him on that. Lance had heard the talk, everyone wanted Keith to at least make an attempt at competing in regional competitions but he was being resistant. “I’ll coach your juniors and lower but no seniors.”

“He’d compete at senior novice level, it’s not a conflict.”

Lance sighed, knowing that anything he said now was going to sound like a compliment. “If he trains properly he’s not going to be able to compete as a novice, he’s almost too skilled already. Why do you want me coaching him anyway, he hates me?”

“You’ll push him.” She said, looking not quite sure of that answer by Lance’s estimation. “I think you’ll get under his skin enough that he’ll end up making the adjustments just to prove that he’s better than you think.”

That was a child’s idea of reasoning. Lance not wanting to tell Allura she was right or wrong on the matter. “Why can’t Pidge or Matt coach him?”

“Matt’s not a coach, he teaches kids the basics and Pidge is too busy learning the program you’ve made for her.”

“So, tell him to teach Keith the basics of a flip jump.” That earnt a scowl, something he hadn’t been bargaining on but found to be amusing enough. “It’s got to come from him before I even consider it.”

“But–” Allura paused, looking relieved by that response. “He doesn’t know I’m asking this of you, but I’ll get him to ask you.”

That was enough for Lance, nodding and smiling. “Did Shiro tell you anything else?”

Ordinarily that would have been fishing for information about Allura’s love life rather than his own. Having buttered her up slightly before getting any dirt at all. This time it was more to find out what it was that she knew specifically.

“Just that you talked about Lotor, which was more information than I knew. I know he interfered with you during practices and that you guys were friends at least, but if you two were in a relationship that’s far more twisted than I thought. Sounds like something his father would set him up to do.”

“Zarkon doesn’t know, he might be a stalker, but Lotor made sure he never found that out.” His wasn’t entirely interested into going into detail about the matter for a second time today. It was like a family reunion, having to go over the same stories five times over in an evening. “At least he’s with his beloved son now rather than following me from rink to rink. First summer of freedom since I hired and fired him.”

“Freedom that is certainly well deserved.”


	5. 2 + 2 = 5 (The Lukewarm)

It took three days for the request to come, Lance deciding to brush Keith off at first. Not because he was against the idea of coaching the other or due to how entertaining it was to make Keith squirm. In the moment, he’d seen just how reluctant the other seemed to be, an expression he’d worn a time or twenty regarding coaches that had always ended up backfiring.  
If Keith didn’t want a coach, then Lance wasn’t going to force his advice on the other. He hadn’t out and out said no, merely told Keith that he didn’t want to coach someone that wasn’t interested in being coached. He chose to leave the ball in the other’s court. At least that way if Keith really did want this he’d come asking again.  
When the time for that interaction came, Lance didn’t know how he’d react. He got nothing for a week which left him focusing his energy on Pidge fine tuning the piece, forcing her to hold a book or a sheet of paper as she ran through the piece to force realistic arm movements.  
The book going flying a few times. One time it didn’t stop skidding across the ice until it collided with a barrier. They couldn’t help but be thankful for the fact that they were the only two there. If it had ended up tripping another skater especially a young one they were going to get killed by Allura. It was 2am on the Friday when every piece of the program was together, Lance and Coran watching as Pidge moved gracefully across the ice, the technical elements having found their places and the jumps, spins and spirals decided upon.  
Pride wasn’t the right word for how Lance felt. He’d designed programs for himself before, he’d even choreographed an exhibition piece or two for juniors at one of his former rinks, those had been simple pieces that were mostly for fun. But getting Pidge comfortable enough with the program in the space of a week, was another story. He’d bluffed his way into convincing Pidge that this was the right style for her. That the narrative they were going to convey was something she couldn’t capture.  
Yet she was clearly able to do it when she was in front of two people. The nerves of a competition might bring out a different attitude but Lance couldn’t dwell on that fact. It wasn’t up to him to make sure she was perfect come competition season. He’d give advice because he was around but it wasn’t something he had to do. It was something for Pidge and Coran to work with from now on. “You’ve made something that can win.” Coran uttered, earning a sideways glance from Lance. “She’s had the potential there, but on an international scale it was always still a question. This is something Pidge can win with.”  
“I wasn’t trying to half ass it.” Lance sighed, rubbing his eyes. While he was used to staying up late at times, working for this long was exhausting, he was surprised Pidge wasn’t marking jumps and spins at this point.  
“If you had of, she would have fired you.”  
“Would have made any doubt in my mind real.” There was something calming about Coran, Lance had known him for as long as he’d known Allura and yet he was more willing to talk openly with Coran. The man didn’t judge and while his advice wasn’t always great he never left Lance feeling like a total screw up. “She’s right though, I am projecting through this program.”  
“They aren’t good people, it just took longer for you to see it.” Coran spoke quietly, the music coming to a stop, the pair clapping as Pidge sat on the ice. It wasn’t the final pose but it was evident she didn’t care anymore. “Alfor never blamed you for sticking with your contract and not coming back here.”  
“I chose not to come back after that, I knew he was sick and I made a decision that I couldn’t face that.” Lance knew his actions were cowardly, no one enjoyed watching someone they were close with become a shell of what they were. Most sucked it up and at least tried to see them, Lance didn’t even make an attempt. He blocked it out and pretended like someone who’d nurtured his career in its infancy was already gone.  
Somehow no one had resented him for doing that. It was simply a detail everyone ignored. “You came back in the end, it doesn’t matter how or why.” Watching as Pidge stood and slowly skated towards the edge of the rink, her movements shorter than what they had been early in the night, fatigue really showing itself. “Make sure to cool down properly.” Coran said smiling at Pidge, handing the guards over.  
“God we’re never going to leave.” Pidge complained, sliding each guard onto the blades, finding her bag and sitting down. “Thank god it’s Sunday, no training, no work. I can actually sleep in.”  
That was a positive of training so late, Lance and Pidge had both managed to convince Allura that they needed the Sunday off so they could be functional human beings come Monday and she’d taken them off for the day. “Just make sure to rub it in Matt’s face when he realises you’re the one he’s filling in for.”  
“I won’t see him until late tomorrow so he might have figured it out before then.”  
“How late do you plan on sleeping?” Lance asked, glancing over at Coran as he closed the rink off, quickly making his way over to the Zamboni.  
“I’m not staying at home tonight.” That grabbed Lance’s attention, his hand moving in a circle to push her to elaborate. “Hunk said I can stay at your place before he left… You were there when we were talking about it.”  
“Physically yes, spiritually no.” Lance said, smirking at the other. He really hadn’t paid any attention to the conversation, mostly because whenever he did they were talking about tech stuff that Lance certainly didn’t care for. “For a second there I thought you were going to say you had a mysterious boyfriend or girlfriend.”  
“You’re an idiot.” She sighed, pulling each skate off and sitting them on the seat beside her. There was a benefit in Pidge going back to his and Hunk’s, while the walk back to the apartment wasn’t too far, but it was definitely dark. A friend meant maybe he wouldn’t get paranoid by the random noises in the dark. “anyway, we’re watching movies all day tomorrow and you can join us.”  
“Doesn’t Hunk have a game tomorrow?”  
“Wow you really weren’t present, were you? The other team forfeited or there was a bye.” Lance got the impression that she hadn’t been listening at the time either, watching as Pidge stuffed her things into a training bag and slipped on her sneakers. “Let’s go now, I’ll stretch once I’m showered.”  
That request was good enough for Lance, waving to Coran and making signs that they were leaving before the other could make them help lock everything up. It wasn’t that it was a tough job, merely that then they’d have to listen to Coran reminisce about his career and talk about things neither one of them really understood and didn’t care to pretend to.  
They mostly walked in silence, Pidge, half a step behind Lance as she made a point to stretch out her legs entirely with each step. The both of them feeling thankful that it was a relatively warm night.  
It wasn’t until they were a block away that Pidge spoke up, tucking her phone into her jacket pocket. “Do you have keys or do we need to buzz to get up?” She asked, falling in step with Lance now.  
“I’d hope so, Hunk’s a heavy sleeper.” He muttered, rifling through his bag. Without his skates the bag really did feel empty, mostly containing spare clothes and anything for music, be it an iPod or speaker, he hadn’t even brought a water bottle with him this morning. It only took a moment for him to pull the keys out passing them over.  
“Are you happy with the program?” She asked, stopping at the main door, unlocking and holding it open for Lance.  
“If I wasn’t happy with it I would have said so.” For it being half past two in the morning, Lance was thankful they lived on the second floor of the building, only having to take one flight of stairs. The elevators being both too slow and small for his patience. “Where are you sleeping tonight, because you shouldn’t crash on the couch?”  
Pidge stopped in front of him, frowning at him before shaking her head. “Don’t worry, I’ve crashed here a few times before.” She uttered as she went back to climbing the stairs, pulling open the fire door rather roughly.  
Biting his lip, Lance shoe to stay silent, taking the keys back once Pidge had the door to the apartment open, noticing that she looked less angry and more puzzled by their conversation. “I’m gonna go shower, I’ll see you whenever the second of us wakes up tomorrow.” She sighed, not looking at him.  
He didn’t know what he did wrong and yet he felt guilty. Was this just an example of his not paying attention biting him in the ass, or was it about the program? She’d seemed happy with it and yet the person that had just entered the bathroom didn’t seem too happy anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter but I had to get something out before all the assessments I have this week. I'm gonna try and update weekly with Sundays being the planned schedule


	6. It Can Wait

The issue with having an eastern facing room and getting home when you’re too tired to wind down the blinds is that once it hits nine the light hits your face. Lance attempted to roll over, finding his body getting restless, legs quickly tangled in the blanket over his body. “Fuck me…” He mumbled to himself, glancing to the clock by his bed, only to groan in frustration. Barely fifteen minutes had passed since he was first disturbed.

It was almost insulting that on the day he planned to sleep in as late as possible, he was awake early enough to attend a church service with time to spare. He only had one solution, to stare at his phone until there was movement heard within the main living space. There was no way Lance was going to be the one that woke up Pidge. He’d encountered her at early morning practices and in reality, she was snarky enough when she was awake that the person that had, had their slumber disturbed was likely a monster.

So, Instagram it was, the feed being filled with skaters that were in shows for the summer, old friends taking advantage of their vacation, other athletes posting about how great their game was over the weekend, celebrities being… well celebrities and a few pages that posted art that he liked. He lingered over a few posts, deciding not to like too many, knowing someone that followed him would be lurking to see just what it was that he was liking. Which if it was a fan, well that wasn’t so terrible, however his siblings and then subsequently his mother lurking that was a whole other story.

They were a close family, Lance making a point to call regularly, but they were certainly a nosy family, especially when he was physically distant from them. The last time he’d called had been two weeks ago, before the injury had been diagnosed. While he’d wanted to call them that night, since then he’d been too scared to do so. He couldn’t predict the reactions he’d get from his parents, his father hadn’t exactly approved of the risks and moves that Lance had made, whilst his mother had pushed him to chase his dreams. Even if they didn’t say it outright, he never wanted to hear the disappointment in their voices when they realised it was simply because he had been pushing himself too hard for too long.

It was safer to wait for their call, where he’d barely be able to get a word in whilst he was updated with every piece of family gossip in the time that they hadn’t all spoken.

One such photo that he lingered on was that of an old acquaintance, Nyma, there may have been a brief flirtation between the two of them, but she’d been so self-interested that others had dissuaded Lance from pursuing it any further. Turns out it was a good call as the Ice Dancer did seem to be very hot and cold, only being friendly when she wanted something.

Lance tolerated it better than most, however there had been days where he hadn’t had the patience and snapped at her. She looked happy though, and Lance couldn’t help but smile at that. Her head back, looking like she was laughing as she was lifted in a full split by one foot, her partner Rollo’s face hidden due to the angle at which the photo had been taken.

Had he not snapped they would have at least still been friends, rather than just awkward acquaintances that complimented each other in a hotel lobby or in the stands at the competition when the national team was made to gather.

Now that he thought about it Lance wasn’t particularly close with any of the national team members. He’d trained in Europe whilst most had remained in the States, one men’s singles skater had once told him that even though he had amazing talent he shouldn’t have been competing for team USA. It hadn’t been meant as an insult, but Lance had taken it that way. Plenty had thought he was taking the easy way out by competing for an established ISU nation, ignoring the fact that he’d been born in the USA.

It hadn’t even been the first time it had been suggested that the reason he competed for the US in international events to get him higher scores. It hadn’t been wrong either, yet at the time it was hard to shake that people thought he was a no better than a fraud.

Continuing to stare at the image, Lance couldn’t help but jump when his phone began to ring, the number corresponding to their area but he definitely didn’t recognise it. “Lance’s phone, who is this?” He uttered into the phone, surprised by how groggy he sounded.

“It’s Keith, look Hunk and Pidge aren’t answering their phones and I need someone to buzz me into the building.”

Gross. If there was someone who’s face he didn’t care to see right now it was definitely Keith’s. “Yeah… my mother taught me never to let Texans into my house. Sorry buddy.” He chuckled, pushing himself out of bed.

“I’m not from Texas, I haven’t even lived in the south.” It was too easy, a simple joke about Texas and Keith got defensive. “Just let me in, please.”

“Buzz the number and I’ll be able to.” Lance muttered, glancing briefly at the empty couch before moving to the phone on the wall. Pressing it the button to let Keith up once it rang for a moment.

“Thanks.” Lance quickly hung up, looking back to the couch now. Where was Pidge? She couldn’t have fallen asleep in the bathroom, he’d still been awake when she’d gotten out of the shower, he’d heard her bag get dropped on the floor and the bathroom door be shut. Had she left? No that didn’t make any sense.

He didn’t get all that much time to investigate, a sharp rapping at the door changing Lance’s focus. Why did Keith have to be so aggressive about everything? It was Sunday morning, those that were loud, especially those that mowed their lawns on a Sunday morning were complete and utter assholes. “Are you borrowing something or…” He uttered only to be cut off.

“Hunk invited me, something about movies and wanting to have an even number of people so no one, you, felt left out.”

“You’re lying.”

“Well yeah, but I was invited” Keith said, plopping himself onto the couch. “You look confused.”

That wasn’t wrong, Lance’s eyes shifting around the space until it landed on Hunk’s door. If she’d gotten up early it was possible that she’d go into Hunk’s room and mess around with whatever thing he was working on, he had witnessed them both messing around with stuff at the rink ‘fixing’ things that Allura thought was broken. “Nah, I’m good.” He said letting out a deep breath and taking a seat himself. “Why are you here so early?”

“It’s ten.”

“Yeah and Pidge and I got back after two thirty last night.”

Now it was Keith’s turn to look confused, likely surprised that anyone would stay back at the rink so late. The difference between a hobby and a career. “I thought everyone had to be out by midnight.”

“Not when we’re finishing programs, you can have private practices as late or as early as you need.” He said, pulling his good knee up and resting his chin on it. “I’ve had to sleep at a rink for an hour because I didn’t have the time to go home and then come back in time for my next practice.”

Silence lingered between them for a moment, Lance wondering if Keith thought he was sensationalising his own experience. “Is that normal?”

Biting his lip, Lance shook his head slowly, not enthused by the idea of going into detail about his previous official coach. “I shouldn’t have trained that next morning, but my coach insisted that if I wanted to win anything it was what I had to do.” He said, hoping that one of the two individuals behind Hunk’s bedroom door would come out and distract from the conversation. “Dedication is important. Not like that though, it shouldn’t be the only thing in your life.”

“Do you think I should do it?”

That question threw Lance, he’d thought Keith knew what he wanted from the sport. Everyone was pushing him towards competing but Lance had always assumed that he actually had no real intention of doing so. “Don’t do it for other people, you have the skill to do it, the jumps… that’s another story but if you want to take it seriously then of course you should.”

The look he earnt was the last thing that Lance expected, Keith looking relieved rather than that permanent annoyed expression he always seemed to wear. So, this wasn’t just something that was coming from external sources. “Where do I start?”

The chance to respond wasn’t given to Lance, Hunk’s door opening. “Morning.” The male uttered, closing the door quietly behind him.

Shifting across the couch, Lance made room for Hunk, resulting in he and Keith being shoulder to shoulder. “How’d you sleep?” Keith asked, the mood seeming to have shifted to a slightly lighter one.

“Oh, you know fine, until Pidge came in, turned every light on and started rummaging through my cupboard in the middle of the night.” Hunk grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut as though he was attempting to convey just how tired he was.

“What was she looking for?” Lance asked, trying his best not to smile let alone start laughing.

Hunk opened his briefly, his eyes meeting Lance’s for just a moment. “A ball, she said something about falling on the ice and not wanting to have corked her butt.” With that his resolve cracked, hanging his head slightly as he laughed at the thought of that interaction. A half-asleep Hunk annoyed about being awoken and Pidge in the middle of a cool down, semi-frantically looking for a ball of all things. “Then there’s that she has the most unstable body temperature, coldest hands and feet ever and then suddenly she’s burning up.”

“She’s a Gremlin.” Keith chuckled, only making Lance laugh more. “And not like Gizmo, one of the evil ones like Stripe.”

“That’s not what the Gremlins do?” Hunk said half-heartedly.

Looking up Lance shook his head at the other. “She got wet, ate after midnight, she had a protein bar at like one. Maybe if we open some blinds, she’ll melt.”

“Hey, no. If she’s anything from a weird eighties movie, she’s Sarah from the Labyrinth.” Hunk said, poking Lance in the chest.

“What and I’m Jareth?”

“You’re Toby.” Keith and Hunk said together, wearing matching smiles.

Lance placed a hand over his heart acting as though he was offended. “I don’t cry that much.”

“No, but you’re so easy to snatch away.” Hunk smirked, gripping Lance’s chin and forcing the smaller man to shake his head slowly.

Lance swatted the hand away, leaning more heavily against Keith as he did so. Deciding to change the topic. “Why are you and Pidge sharing a bed anyway?” That only made Keith laugh, Lance feeling the way the other’s shoulders moved gently as he did.

“Oh, you’re so obsessed with Shiro and Allura that you’re oblivious.” Keith uttered, only making Lance scowl. He certainly did not appreciate being called oblivious, if he ignored things it was a choice, typically it didn’t mean that he wasn’t aware of it, he just wouldn’t want any part in it. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

It was fairly simple to piece it together from there, Lance’s face scrunched up in annoyance. How could he be that dumb that he didn’t know his roommate and one of the few people he’d genuinely made friends with since moving were together? There’d been days that he’d woken up and Pidge was there, he’d just assumed that she’d come over early in the morning. “Holy fuck I’m such an idiot.” More laughter, Lance having to adjust how he was sitting again, hating how his head bounced off Keith’s shoulder each time he laughed.

***

Once Pidge did get up, they went over the conversation again, this time with less laughter as Pidge recounted that she’d figured it out when they’d gotten home. Her cold behaviour because she was trying hard not to lose it. Leaving Lance feeling slightly better, at least he hadn’t done anything to piss her off.

Three movies in and the four had seemingly relaxed some more. Lance leaning against Keith on the couch, Keith’s arm around him as it had fallen asleep at one point, Pidge stretching on the floor and Hunk pretending to watch the movie he’d selected as he made snacks for them. “This movie is so stupid.” Lance whined, barely five minutes in. “I’ll have it on the record I would rather watch the Mighty Ducks.”

“We know, but I have to agree.” Pidge muttered, her voice strained as she leant forward in her side split. “Although this will be Keith’s life story without the physics genius storyline.”

Lance gasped, turning his head to look at Keith, his eyes lighting up in amusement. “Right down to not doing double flips correctly. If you want I’ll buy you knew skates at a competition only to sabotage you.”

“Wow more jump jokes, does it ever end?” Keith grumbled, his eyes still focused on the screen.

“Do you want to learn how to do them right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know what you need to do.” He said softly, looking back to the screen. Knowing from the soft hum that escaped the other, that he knew exactly what Lance was telling him to do. However, the lack of genuine response gave him the impression that Keith wasn’t exactly willing to ask.

The group went silent once more, Hunk bringing a bowl of popcorn along with some cookies over with him. Taking back the free space that was on the couch. Defending his own movie choice by claiming that the Mighty Ducks wasn’t an accurate depiction of hockey either, even if they’d literally created a club from it.

It felt nice sitting within the group, Lance realising even if he clashed with them all a lot, they were real friends. Nothing like the friends he’d had at other clubs that only really associated with him regarding skating and outside of that he was virtually alone. He wondered if many of them actually knew him outside of his attitude as a skater, an individual that had for a long time been rather cold towards others.

Half way through the movie, Lance was startled by the loud buzz that was his phone on the glass coffee table, realising just how close to falling asleep on Keith he’d been. “Sorry, this might be my parents.” He mumbled, getting up quickly, taking his phone as he went into his room. Feeling like he’d dry swallowed a big pill when he read the contact name. He highly doubted this would be an apology for being hung up on over a week and a half ago. “Lotor?”

“What the fuck?”

Lance found himself sitting at his desk, leaning an elbow on the cool surface. What could he have possibly done that had pissed the other off enough to receive a call. “I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say right now.” Lance muttered, feeling like all moisture had left his mouth.

The huff from the other end of the phone told Lance that he’d not given anything even close to the right answer. “You said you’re injured, not that you’re going as far as coaching.”

“I choreographed one program for Kaitlin Holt, what are you talking about?” There was no way Lotor could possibly know about Keith. No one at the rink spoke to him or his father, so news wouldn’t be able to travel that quickly. He wasn’t even Keith’s coach, he wouldn’t be until the other actually bothered to genuinely ask him.

“You know I’m not talking about her. That kid with the mullet. You know it’s not ethical to cuddle up to your athlete, you could even go under review from an ethics committee.”

“Is this you getting territorial?” He uttered, surprised that this was the reaction he was getting. “Wait how the hell do you even know about this guy?”

“Don’t act dumb Lance, you’re not innocent enough to get away with it.” This certainly was a jealousy thing. Lance pursing his lips in thought.

It wasn’t often he’d come across this side of Lotor, and it definitely had never been filled with so much anger. It had always been jokes like ‘don’t forget you’re mine’ and several rather possessive marks on his neck. “We’re not together, I’m not with anyone and right now I’m also not coaching anyone.” He hissed, that dry nervous feeling being sucked away by the anger that filled him. “You slept with someone else. You didn’t care when I needed you because you were too busy protecting yourself. I was begging for some form of comfort and you just told me you didn’t need me anymore. That I was worthless to you.”

“You broke up with me, don’t put your hurt feelings on me.” That was the first calm sentence to come from Lotor, Lance wondering if the other was just goading him into getting angry.

“Oh, come on! You know why I did it. Guess what, she’s not a beard when you’re sleeping with her behind closed doors!” He snapped, covering his mouth when he heard the echo off his bedroom walls. “I don’t care what you identify as, we’re not together so that argument isn’t important anymore.”

Before he could give the other the chance, Lance hung up the phone, his breath getting caught in his throat as he realised just how overwhelmed he was, he was such an idiot. He sounded like a complete and utter crazy person and now the three people he’d just been thinking were real friends had heard him lose it. It wasn’t until he felt the chair’s wheels against his tail bone that he’d realised he’d slid onto the floor.

_Breathe_

_Don’t lose your shit_

_Breathe_

It was too late, barely able to feel anything other than the pounding in his chest, the feeling almost translating into sound it pounded so hard. Staring at his fingertips, Lance flicked at them with his thumb’s nail, hard enough leave slight dents, feeling nothing, not even the sensation of the nail running across the skin.

It wasn’t until a large set of hands covered his own that he realised he was being watched. His mind not entirely registering who they belonged to. It’d never felt this bad before, the sensations being duller typically, something that could be pushed away with a distraction.

Not this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically enough this song is a hip hop song by a guy named Illy, whilst I listened almost exclusively to the DEH Cast Recording as I wrote the chapter.


	7. I will

The movement was gentle, but Lance found himself standing, eyes pointed to the ground as he tried to force himself to breathe, feeling as though he was choking with each intake of air. The hands still gripped his, registering that he was being spoken to but having trouble understanding what was being said.

He wanted to sink back to the floor, be as small as possible just this once. Someone being there only made it harder unable to find where he was able to feel any form of a sensation when his hands were being gripped. “St-op.” Lance squeaked, coughing as he attempted to breathe in again.

The person in front of him ignored the request, slowly letting go of one of his hands and resting a finger under Lance’s chin, forcing him to lift his chin from his chest. “In and out, slowly.” The other said, Lance finally looking at the other. Keith? Why would he help him? What did he even know? The moment of confusion only left him gasping for air, squeezing his eyes shut again. “In through your nose, out through your mouth?”

Why was he speaking to him like he was a child? As much as it bothered Lance, he started to follow the instructions the other provided, taking slow but short breaths through his nose and expelling what he could through his mouth. It didn’t make the ache in his chest disappear, but he didn’t feel like he was going to choke anymore. When Lance opened his eyes, he saw a small smile on the Keith’s face, a kind smile, the idea of that seemed impossible not minutes ago. “I want to lie down.” Lance mumbled between breaths, almost sounding as though he was asking for permission to do so.

“That’s okay.” Keith uttered, releasing the other hand so that Lance could lay on his bed comfortably, sitting on the floor beside the bed. There were several minutes of silence, Lance’s eyes wandering as he found himself feeling better, the numbness no longer extending to his entire body as he drew small patterns on his sheets with his finger. “What do you want me to do?”

He hadn’t expected a question like that. Honestly as Lance started find himself calming down he’d thought that Keith was going to get up and leave, something that Lance wasn’t thrilled by. The presence of another was comforting, even if he wasn’t a friend. “Don’t go.” He uttered, reaching out towards the other, the warm touch of Keith’s hand taking his assuring him that he wasn’t going to be left alone with his own mind just yet.

“Do you need to talk about what set you off?” He sounded so soft, like he was scared to ask the question, even though Lance had been the one panicking just minutes earlier.

“Not really… How’d you know what to do?” Lance asked, realising he still knew very little about a lot of the people at the rink. Sure, he liked Shiro but the guy was mostly a mystery as was Keith. He barely knew anything about Matt and yet he’d been reasonably good friends with Pidge for years.

There was a soft sigh from Keith, Lance noticing that the other was looking past him now. “Can I sit beside you?” The soft hum that came from Lance seemed to be answer enough, Keith moving onto the bed, sitting with his legs crossed, never letting go of Lance’s hand as he moved. “I’ve lived with someone for most of my life that has panic attacks often enough. You figure out what helps.”

There was only a handful of people that would be. Lance not even bothering to ask if said person was Shiro. If it wasn’t him, it was one of Keith’s parents and it wasn’t his business to know unless Keith wanted to tell him. He wasn’t going to invade the other’s privacy when he’d just helped him. “Does it always work?”

“No, but when does anything work every single time?”

He wasn’t wrong, Lance had spelt his name wrong a time or two under pressure, so nothing was guaranteed, especially if there were more people involved. Instead of responding, Lance stayed quiet, squeezing the other’s hand gently, unsure if the incredibly brief movement from the other’s hand was intentional or merely an involuntary twitch. Both pairs of eyes going to the bedroom door as it was pushed open slightly, Pidge standing in the doorway, looking exhausted. “Hunk’s going to take me home, do you need a ride too, Keith?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Okay… I’ll ah, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” She said, stepping back to close the door again, seeming to linger for a moment.

Nothing else needed to be said, the two boys turning their attention back to each other, Lance having not realised that he’d tightened his grip on Keith’s hand. Slowly retracting it out of embarrassment. No wonder Keith wanted to stay. He probably thought it was the only way he would be able to keep his hand.

Why was he so painfully awkward? One crack had shown and Lance had let his entire guard down, around someone that barely tolerated him in their place of training/work. Friends didn’t deserve to put up with this. No one deserved to put up with this side of him. “What are you thinking about?” Why was he so kind? It was easier when Keith was just as horrible to him as he was.

This soft side wasn’t helping. “Why am I like this?” He sighed, pressing half of his face into the pillow, finding some comfort in the fact that he was able to hide some of his expression. He always cried out of his left eye first. Unfortunately, if he started he didn’t know if he would be able to stop himself from crying. “I’m a fraud.” If he closed his eyes at least he wouldn’t be able to see Keith’s reactions.

“You’re not a fraud.” Keith sighed, Lance feeling movement next to him, choosing to keep his eyes squeezed shut. He had to be lying down now, there was no other explanation for such a heavy movement and if Pidge and Hunk were gone then assumptions weren’t going to be made. “Who cares if you blew up at someone? Sounds like he deserved it.”

“He did.” Lance squeaked, tensing slightly at the hand that touched his shoulder. He got that Keith was trying but it wasn’t exactly working, all Lance wanted to do was curl up and cry and here he was trying to keep it in so he didn’t give himself away entirely.

He didn’t get much of a chance to stop himself from crying however, the moment Keith pulled him close the tears spilt. They must have heard more than the end of the conversation. He hadn’t thought he was begging this time, although his body had a way of betraying him.

Wasn’t exactly the first time, however, previously it had been at concealing more positive bodily reactions, except for that one time he’d gotten a bloody nose in the middle of a free skate. That had at least been funny in hind sight. This, well this was just sad. No one liked to feel pathetic, but to feel so in front of another, especially someone one was barely friends with. Well that blew.

***

Two hours, it took two hours for Keith to leave him alone. It hadn’t been that Lance didn’t appreciate the comfort from the other. He truly did but by the time he’d calmed down entirely, no longer wallowing in self-pity, Lance just wanted some time to be alone and think.

By think it meant investigate through any means of social media he could use as to how Lotor could have possibly gotten any idea that there was not only something going on between him and Keith but also that he was coaching him. The notion of it alone was still ludicrous to Lance, so how would Lotor ever possibly believe it? Had he finally become as paranoid as his father? That was only a recipe for disaster.

To say Keith had left him alone was one thing, he could still hear the other, chatting with Hunk. As of yet Lance hadn’t heard his name, not that he was listening for it. He had been concerned though that he’d tell Hunk every dumb thing he’d said while he was crying. Like outwardly agreeing to coach Keith just to prove a point. How had he agreed to something so stupid? Was he torturing himself, or was he attempting to torture Keith for being nice to him?

Either way he was an idiot for agreeing.

“What do you know?” Lance mumbled, hugging a pillow to his body with one arm whilst the other hand, half numb was slowly scrolling down his Instagram feed, mostly looking for potential fan pages that had heard something at the rink and then passed it on. Wouldn’t have been the first time something like that happened.

They proved useless though, until he found one. It mostly seemed like a bot account, that reposted whatever the American and Canadian skaters posted. There were thousands of posts on there, ten within the last hour at least. Most seemed to be having a relaxing Sunday night.

Photos of food, the beach, even one of snow fields, an easy guess being that they were somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere, nowhere specific having been tagged in the repost. Lance’s curiosity getting the better of him and finding the original post before finishing his investigation.

It took all of two seconds, finding the skater’s profile, then the picture and finally seeing that they’d tagged Valle Nevado. Why would anyone go to the snow when most of their year was taken up training for a winter sport? Relaxing at the beach sounded like a far better option.

Quickly finding his place again, Lance found what he needed, a repost of a video from Pidge’s account. She had, had her phone in her hand as she was stretching. So, it didn’t seem that surprising that she’d made a post about how dumb the movie was. It was mostly her face, however, there was a brief shot of him and Keith sitting together, definitely looking too comfortable.

Tapping out of the video and then back in, turning the volume from the beginning of what seemed to be a relatively brief clip.

_“Although this will be Keith’s life story without the physics genius storyline.”_

_“Right down to not doing double flips correctly. If you want I’ll buy you knew skates at a competition only to sabotage you.”_

_“Wow more jump jokes, does it ever end?”_

_“Do you want to learn how to do them right?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Then you know what you need to do.”_

It looked bad, especially with the caption, ‘Soliciting students as a coach, a modern love story’ followed by several hashtags.

No wonder conclusions had been jumped to. No, no wonder Pidge had looked so exhausted, she was the reason why any of it had happened. A guilty conscience that she certainly didn’t deserve. It took all of two seconds to see that she’d already deleted the original video and it certainly wasn’t her fault that a repost account hadn’t gotten the memo and followed suit.

**To: Katie**

**I don’t blame you.**

That was all he really needed to send, getting out of bed and returning to the lounge room, Hunk and Keith barely glancing at him until he sat between the two of them. Good, the last thing he wanted was to be treated differently over one incident. “Finally, a quality figure skating movie.” Lance murmured, earning a small chuckle from Hunk.

“You and Pidge tore apart Ice Princess, but you consider Blades of Glory quality?” Keith asked, sounding more perplexed than ever.

“This movie doesn’t take itself seriously.” Lance shrugged, leaning forward and grabbing a handful of the popcorn that sat on the table. “Also, we hardly tore it apart, Hunk’s commentary on the Mighty Ducks is far more critical.”

“It’s true, MVP is certainly better.” Hunk said, sounding as serious as Lance had ever heard him.

The other two paused for a moment, Lance opening his mouth twice before even coming up with a response. “That’s the one with the chimp, isn’t it?” Keith finally said.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, no you’re both full of shit there isn’t a movie about a chimp playing hockey.” Lance said, turning his head several times to see which one of them would crack first.

Neither did. “It’s real, I’ll prove it.” Hunk said, clearly trying to repress some laughter.

As the other took out his phone, Lance stared Keith down, trying to see if the other would tell him that it was all a joke.

As the phone was placed in his hand, it became very clear to him that this in fact wasn’t some terrible joke, Lance falling completely silent as he watched the trailer. “This is the best and worst thing I’ve seen in my entire life.” He muttered half way through, barely able to stop himself from letting his jaw drop several times. Slightly relieved by the time it was over. “At least I’ve seen the whole movie now so I never have to watch it.”

That only got laughter from the two, Lance handing the phone back over, now glad he had decided to come back out rather than lick his wounds by himself for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo thanks for the support so far, I really enjoy writing this fic, I just got a little stuck with this past chapter that's why it took so long.


	8. Rude

Why did he agree to work whilst he was off the ice? In hindsight, it was a terrible idea for two reasons; it left him on his feet for hours at a time, his knee starting to ache and leaving him on one foot most of the time, and working on skates’ hire was a truly miserable time. Especially on a Monday evening when it was quiet enough that Lance was the only one that was needed in the role and the others were able to either be on the ice or pretending to DJ.

It left him wishing he hadn’t delayed college and was taking advantage of a summer semester. Not that there was any real intention to go to college anymore. He’d been ten the last time he’d sat in formal education, half a life time ago. The idea of it just seemed foolish now.

This was all because of that Freud conversation they’d been having in the staff room, Lance having only caught the end of it but understanding that Keith and Pidge were talking about the power trio. Arguing over who fell into which role, even though Keith was a drop out as far as Lance understood and Pidge while studying via distance sounded like she ended up rather swamped in the biggest parts of their season.

He had understood enough though, weaselling his way into the discussion only to disagree with them entirely. How could they think he was the id? Lance knew he’d never be the superego, no one wanted to be the superego but he had always thought he was at least material for the ego. They were already intertwined as is.

Why was this such a dilemma? It was superficial, even if it was plain as day that Keith was the id. It had been an hour since the conversation had ended with Allura kicking them out and demanding they get to work. Yet he was still irritated. His attention was grabbed by a young girl no older than eight standing at the counter, ticket to hire skates in hand. “What size can I get for you?” He asked, trying to at least remain personable no matter how much he hated being on skate’s hire.

“Nine ladies please.” She said, grinning up at Lance. Without second thought, he got the children’s size, there was no way a kid was wearing size nines in adult sizing, she was a tiny thing. “No ladies… they’re for my mum.” She corrected as Lance turned around skates in hand. The skater shaking his head, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Do you need skates too?” He asked, checking the ticket, which confirmed it was only one pair that needed hiring.

“No, I have my own, they’re blue on the inside.” She said, sounding more than proud with herself, this time Lance unable to stop himself from laughing softly, setting the pair on the counter for her to grab.

“You’ll have to show me next time you come, you better go give your mum her skates or she might think you’ve already snuck off to start skating.”

The girl’s lips came together in an oh, taking the skates from the counter with a grin. “Thanks Lance!” She called out as she ran off, Lance knowing he should tell her not to run with skates in her hands, or just run in the area in general but deciding against.

It was odd, he was used to older kids knowing of him, but in the past month or so far less. There were a few younger skaters, that trained regularly at the rink that he’d help when Coran and Allura were too busy, or simply weren’t close enough, but most only really knew him as a trainer, not a skater. A new face knowing him by name however, it left Lance looking at his shirt to see if he was wearing a name tag, knowing immediately how strange that was to think when they didn’t even have name tags here, just shirts that said staff on the back of them.

“You look like you’re having a mental battle.” Allura said, making Lance jump and unfortunately, yelp. He hadn’t even heard the door open or close and yet here Allura was. “Is this still about what you guys were talking about earlier?”

“I wish… which I’m right on what I’m saying, I’ll concede only when they admit Keith is an id too.” He muttered, groaning softly when he realised he was about to get into it again. “Anyway… a little girl who I swear I haven’t ever seen before knew my name.”

“Wouldn’t have just been someone that’s a fan?” Oh, that was so simple yet seemed like such a foreign concept. Because yes of course there could be young kids that were fans. Even ones that don’t totally base their perception off one bad program. “Although, that girl that was just here is a part of the club, so it could be that you’re just rude.”

It was probably the latter. “I like to think she’s a fan.” He chuckled, wondering if he was meant to remember the girl’s name now.

“I heard there was some drama last night.” Allura said, without skipping a beat. Lance scrambling to figure out who of the three was the rat. The last thing he wanted after apparently having a panic attack and crying in front of Keith was Allura telling him how terrible of a person Lotor was. “Shiro said you agreed to coach Keith.”

So now Shiro had to know about that as well. He truly was good at generating gossip quickly. “How does Shiro even know?”

“Keith told him… because they live together and Keith wanted to tell someone.” She said, seeming rather happy about it all. Allura always was one for gossip.

“That’s embarrassing.”

“You caving to coaching Keith is embarrassing?”

Oh, dear God was that a relief, Lance letting out a deep breath. “No, Christ I thought it was about what lead up to that.” Allura moved her hand in a way to prompt him further. “And by that, I mean, we made a sex tape.” He lied knowing she wouldn’t be convinced by that.

“You’re lying, but this is clearly why they think you’re the id. Just have him prepared to skate in the club comp we’re having. I don’t expect you to have made a winner but he needs to make a good showing, you know what it used to be like doing that, having old alums coming back and just competing for fun.”

“Yeah, I remember, I lost to Coran because I fell on a combination spin. I was not a happy twelve-year-old that day and Zarkon was pissed.”

“You lost to more than just Coran, but it was a growth moment for you. Unless you finally want revenge against Coran I’m not going to push you into doing it, but Keith needs to.” The key word was needs, which meant there was likely some convincing it was going to take more than just a gentle nudge.

“How many of your seniors, especially high level seniors are going to enter?” He asked, sitting up on the counter. There wasn’t likely going to be too many extra hires, they were closing in three hours after all, not to mention Mondays didn’t seem to be a particularly busy day.

She paused for a moment, Lance wondering if she was delaying for effect or if she was genuinely trying to remember numbers. “They aren’t too excited about the idea, a few of the pairs teams sounded interesting but nothing from the ladies or dancers, and you’re the only high level men’s skater we have at present.”

“Even Pidge wasn’t interested?”

“She’s worried if she performs badly at a club event it’s going to make her look bad.”

“It’s better she falls on her face here, when the eyes of the country and world aren’t on her, rather than at a Grand Prix event.”

Allura smiled and nodded in what seemed to be agreement. “Can you convince her then.”

Lance couldn’t help but scoff, attempting to cover it was a nervous laugh. There was no way he was going to convince someone so head strong to compete at a club meet. “I’m not her coach, also while we’re friends, she doesn’t respect me. My opinion isn’t going to matter.”

“She respects you.”

“I don’t care either way, it’s the truth though. If she doesn’t want to do it, I’m not going to be able to push her into it any better than anyone else.”

It wasn’t self-doubt, not this time. He knew Pidge well enough that if he tried to push her into something she’d do the exact opposite, part of their friendship was based on a healthy level of disrespect. They could throw petty jabs at each other and it was water off a duck’s back. “I’ll leave it alone, I can see you’re digging your heels in.” She uttered, Lance looking up to catch the frustrated pout she wore. “Keith, isn’t an option though, he’s doing it whether you get it into his head or we get Shiro to.”

“You doubt me?” He chuckled, holding a hand over his heart. In all honesty, Lance doubted he was going to have Keith ready to compete by then, he didn’t even have a full grasp of all of Keith’s skills, how long were they going to waste on basic technique before they even got to making a program that catered to Keith’s style.

***

Seven. He’d specifically texted Keith to be here at seven for a forty-five-minute freestyle session. It was now five to and Keith was nowhere to be seen. Sure, he’d said it would just be casual. That didn’t mean he could be late. Lance could have slept in, hell! He wanted to sleep in and yet he’d shown up half an hour before the time he wanted Keith on the ice to make sure the other was warmed up properly.

He wasn’t about to let someone get injured on his first day, just because they hadn’t prepared themselves. Five minutes of stretching wasn’t going to be enough, no matter how casual he’d claimed it was going to be.

When he finally did spot Keith, bag over shoulder, wearing converse of all shoes, the niggling feeling of annoyance, bordered on anger. So, he hadn’t even been warming outside at all. “You look like you only just got here.” Lance said as he neared the other.

“I did, you said meet at seven.” He uttered, sounding slightly out of breath. Someone must have made him aware in the past few minutes that he was late then. “Still have a few minutes.”

“You’re going to be stretched and warmed up by then? That’s not happening.” He snapped, trying to hold his tongue, there were kids around. They couldn’t get away with swearing at each other.

“Lance relax, you just want me doing basic stuff, right? I’ll be fine.”

No, that wouldn’t be fine. Keith really did just want to waste his time. “Do you want to take this seriously, or do you want to keep screwing around?”

That got his attention, Keith looking up from his bag as he’d been digging through it frowning at him. As though Lance was the one in the wrong this time. “I know my body.”

“You’re really saying that to the person that ignored an injury? We’ll use the seven-forty-five slot.” He uttered, still attempting to keep his cool. Oh, did he want to yell. It would be more satisfying than just trying to reason with the other. “Do you have trainers with you?”

“No, I wasn’t thinking you wanted to do off ice training.”

“You weren’t thinking, just stop there.” Pursing his lips Lance looked around them, trying to think of any solution. “Take your shoes off, do a light jog off to the side a bit then come back here.”

“You really are just being rude for the sake of it, aren’t you?” Keith sighed, seeming to be following the instructions anyway.

At least he wasn’t going to be totally resistant.

**Author's Note:**

> DOMS - Delayed onset muscle soreness  
> Also rough ages for everyone:  
> Lance, Keith and Hunk - 20  
> Pidge - 18  
> Shiro - 23  
> Allura - 24


End file.
